


and it's worth it, it's divine

by saysthemagpie



Series: i have this some of the time 'verse [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxious Niall, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time, Gender Issues, M/M, Niall's body changes unpredictably, Other, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Sexswap, but they both identify as boys, harry is straight, queer het? is that a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5387519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saysthemagpie/pseuds/saysthemagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's wet between his legs already and he wonders if that's normal or not, if the girls Harry's been with before get like that too when they've got him talking low and dirty in their ear. Or maybe it's weird. Maybe Niall's weird. Maybe right now Harry's thinking about how easy he is for it, his underwear almost soaked through even though he's barely been touched. His breath hitches and he grinds up against Harry's hand, trying not to let the anxiety overwhelm him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"That's it," Harry murmurs, "that's it, just like that, so good for me," and he slips his other hand up under Niall's shirt, gently massaging one of his small, pert breasts, rolling his nipple to full hardness between his fingers.</i>
</p><p>Harry likes girls. Niall's close enough, some of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it's worth it, it's divine

**Author's Note:**

> this got into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. first in a series of standalone one-shots. content warnings for complicated body feelings, mildly cissexist language, p-in-v action, and a straight!Harry who is not very attuned to Niall's complicated body feelings.
> 
> but the sex is very tender and filthy and loving, so there's that.
> 
> the other boys aren't really in this at all, 'cause this is the angsty narry show. also note that Niall does not bind safely in this fic, but [here](http://www.ftmguide.org/binding.html) is information about how you can. the title is from hozier's "cherry wine."

It doesn't happen all that often, every couple months at most. Niall doesn't ever quite manage to forget about it, not really, but most of the time it's just background noise: the knowledge that sometimes, for no discernible reason, he'll wake up in the morning with a different body. With a girl's body, specifically, or at least with the parts that are usually attached to girls. Most of the time it only lasts a couple days, a week at the outside. It clears up on its own eventually, without him having to do anything or tell anyone. 

He knows it's not the kind of thing you tell people about, anyway. That’s what his mother always told him as a child: you make the best life you can with what you’ve been given, and you keep your eccentricities quiet. Niall’s not sure _this_ was what she meant, but he thinks she’s right, for the most part. He gets that there’s something wrong with him, some kind of defect or sickness that makes his body flicker like this. But it’s enough for him to know, surely. It doesn’t have to be anyone’s business but his own. 

It’s just that sometimes - sometimes he wonders about the things his mother never told him about. About the loneliness of keeping quiet, of never being able to speak the thing inside you out loud. About the sick wash of humiliation he feels sometimes when he thinks about his body - its duplicities and betrayals, its fundamental not-rightness. He doesn’t always know how to breathe through the panic that wraps its hands around his throat and chokes him at the oddest moments, the certainty that it’s going to be _him_ \- not Zayn, not Harry or Louis, not Liam - who makes this whole thing come crashing down around their ears. Sometimes he dreams about it so vividly he wakes up feeling like it’s already happened: a pap photo through a hotel window, a tell-all from an ex-lover, his dirty secret splashed all over Twitter.

There’s no space for those feelings in the life he’s living, so he just - doesn’t feel them, just locks them down somewhere deep inside himself. He tells himself that it doesn’t have to be a big deal, any of it. It's just a thing that happens to him sometimes. People live with all kinds of secrets. 

***

He doesn’t tell the other boys. Most of the time when it happens on tour it’s easy enough to hide. His other body doesn’t look all that different - his face is a little thinner, the skin there as smooth as if he’s just shaved, but he’s still got stick-thin legs and no hips to speak of. Even his chest isn’t that different, fuller but still small enough that he can conceal it with an ACE bandage and a bulky jacket. 

Harry finds out by accident, because he has no boundaries and zero qualms about nakedness, his own or other people's. Midway through the Where We Are tour, he bursts into Niall’s hotel bathroom just as he’s stepping out of the shower.

"Whoa,” Harry says, frozen in the doorway. 

"Jesus Christ!" Niall yelps, trying to cover himself with his hands. "What the fuck, Harry, can I get some fucking privacy!"

"I just wanted to tell you something!" Harry says, still staring. "Are you - you're Niall?"

"Of course I'm Niall," Niall snaps. "Hand me a towel and go sit on the bed. Don't even think about posting a cryptic tweet.”

"I wouldn't!" Harry looks hurt at the suggestion. "I would never." 

Harry has a lot of questions. He wants to know if Niall’s ever been to a doctor, if he’s always been like this, if anyone else knows, if he’d rather be a girl instead, if he thinks he might have superpowers. Niall answers him as best he can. _No. Yes. No. No. Not likely._ It’s exhausting to talk about, makes him feel weird and shaky all over, but it’s also kind of a relief to finally tell someone. Harry’s still a little wide-eyed, but he takes it all in stride.

“C’mere,” he says afterwards, and pulls Niall in for a cuddle.

They don’t really talk about it after that. Nothing really changes between them either, except that now Harry will cover for him with the boys and the crew if he needs time to get himself sorted out, or if he just wants some space to clear his head.

Harry’s a little clingier when they go back on tour too, a little more protective than he’s been in the past. He’s always looking for Niall as soon as he comes into the room, or sitting next to him in interviews so he can bump his leg and grin at him when Liam says something especially inane. 

But he doesn’t seem freaked out about it, and that’s all Niall really cares about. His friendship with Harry has never been based in deep, soul-searching conversations anyway. Between the two of them it’s always been about easy companionship and shared inside jokes, combined with the occasional night of heavy drinking games when Harry’s not on one of his juice cleanses. Niall doesn’t push it. He figures Harry’s just filed the whole weird body-switching thing away under _stuff we don’t talk about,_ and left it at that.

***

Harry doesn’t bring it up again until almost a year later, when they’re stuck in a hotel room somewhere in the Midwest before a show. They’ve reached the point in the tour where everyone’s tired and cranky and stir-crazy, ready for it to be over but nowhere near the end yet. Harry’s been restless ever since his L.A. friends flew back home, showing up at Niall’s hotel room at all hours looking to be entertained. 

Niall doesn’t mind usually. His body’s just changed again--a side effect of stress and exhaustion, probably--and it’s kind of nice not to have to keep up appearances around the others when they’re hanging around the hotel. But today’s been an off day. It’s too hot outside for a jacket, so he’s had to bind his chest down in preparation for the concert later. He's irritable and distracted, worried as always about whether people are going to be able to tell. 

He’s lost two games of FIFA to Harry and he’s well on his way to losing a third when Harry suddenly asks, “Can you have sex when you’re like that?” 

Niall maneuvers one of his players around Harry’s and goes in for the shot. He misses. 

“I guess so,” he says. “Never tried.” 

“Aren’t you curious?” Harry makes one of his players sprint up and down the sidelines for no reason, a sure sign that he’s getting bored. 

"I dunno," Niall says. 

"I mean, I’d want to know what it was like the other way around," Harry says. "How it all works, y’know? Like, what feels good for her and what’s just boring and all that.”

Niall gives an awkward little half-shrug, but Harry’s undeterred. “Hey, maybe that could be your superpower. Knowing what gets girls off.”

That seems more like Harry’s superpower, if the sex Niall’s overheard through their shared hotel walls for the last five years is any indication. 

“Yeah," he says. "Maybe.”

He’s slept with a few girls over the years - Barbara, Melissa. A couple fans who seemed like nice, friendly people, not too creepily obsessed with One Direction. He doesn’t do it all that often, partly because the thought of changing halfway through, or waking up beside someone in a different body, makes him feel nauseous with dread.

Lately, though, he’s been wondering if maybe that’s just a convenient excuse. If the real reason he doesn’t go home with girls is that he’s just not all that into girls. 

But that’s a whole separate heading under _stuff we don’t talk about._

“Well, I’m just saying.” Harry’s tone is casual, though Niall can tell he’s watching him out of the corner of his eye. “If you ever wanted to try it, like. I wouldn’t mind. You make a pretty cute girl.”

Someone pounds on the door. Niall nearly jumps out of his skin. 

"Vans leaving in five minutes!” Paul yells. “Get your asses in gear, popstars!”

“Think about it. Doesn’t have to be, like, tomorrow,” Harry says. “Could be, though.” He gives Niall an exaggeratedly lecherous wink jumping up from the couch.

“You’re a slag,” Niall yells after him, just for something to say. “Fuckin’ shameless, you are.” 

He can hear Harry laughing all the way down the hallway, and Liam saying in a worried voice, “Harry, _please_ tell me there aren’t going to be any band babies—” before the door slams shut again. 

It’s just a joke. Harry’s like that sometimes, when he’s bored and restless and looking for limits to test. He’s just messing around.

Niall reaches up to adjust the bandage around his chest. The binding feels too tight suddenly, a constricting pressure underneath his shirt. If he doesn’t sneak off to rewrap it before the show, he won’t be able to breathe properly all night.

***  
“If we do it,” he blurts out the next night. 

They're alone in Harry’s dressing room after the show, waiting for the go-ahead from security to leave the venue. The other boys are off showering, but Niall doesn’t want to risk stripping off where someone could walk in. Instead he’s sitting on his hands on the edge of the makeup counter, kicking at the table legs. 

He’s doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but he feels flushed and reckless and wide awake, his body thrumming with post-concert adrenaline. “If we fuck. It’ll make things weird, won’t it?”

“Not if we don’t let it,” Harry says easily. He’s lying on the couch, his eyes closed. His expression is perfectly serene, as if he’s just spent the evening in quiet meditation instead of performing for sixty thousand screaming fans. “Maybe it'd be weird if we were just, like, two blokes having sex. But this is more of an experiment, innit? Information gathering. Doesn’t seem like a big deal to me.”

Niall should let it go.

“Everybody’s going out to some club,” he says, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “I heard Liam talking about it.” 

He’s got this vague idea that they should go out and have a few drinks first, see if things progress naturally from there. Or maybe Harry will meet a girl and take her home instead and they can both forget this conversation ever happened.

Harry’s quiet for a while. Finally he says, “I might be getting a headache.” 

It stings more than he expected. "Oh," he says. “All right, then. I guess I'll just - ” 

“So I think I'll have a quiet night in,” Harry continues, as if Niall hasn’t spoken. He opens his eyes, blinking slowly at him. “If you wanted to, like. Come over later and watch a film instead.” 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, quick and pink. Niall’s seen Harry do it a million times before, when he wants a girl to look at his mouth and wonder what it’d be like to kiss it, to feel it open against hers in a slick, easy slide. 

It's a good trick. It works.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “Sounds good.”

***

Harry's on a different floor than the rest of them for some reason, though fortunately security's got both wings cordoned off. He's left the door cracked for him, and Niall stands outside it for a few minutes, listening to the low noise of the TV going inside the room. Finally he takes a deep breath and goes in, making sure to deadbolt the door behind him before he turns around.

Harry's sprawled out on the bed, naked except for a pair of black briefs. He grins lazily when he sees Niall, his eyes raking quickly over him. 

Niall's spent most of the last hour panicking about what to wear. It's not like he dresses like a girl even when his body's like this, but he wasn't sure if dressing like he usually does on hotel days would put Harry off too much, mess with the fantasy or whatever. 

In the end he'd compromised, going for a thin grey t-shirt and a pair of girls' running shorts, probably Sophia's, that had gotten returned by mistake once with his laundry. 

Harry doesn't comment on the outfit, although his gaze lingers briefly on Niall's chest. "Thought you changed your mind about going out."

"No," Niall says, hovering awkwardly on the threshold. Harry’s just looking at him, almost expectantly, and he wonders if Harry’s going to make him say it out loud, the reason he's come. And if that’s the case—he can’t, he _can’t_. He feels like he's teetering on the edge of panic already. All he needs is the slightest nudge and he’ll be in free fall.

But Harry just sits up and scoots back against the headboard. “Why don't you come here?" he says, patting the space between his legs.

Niall hesitates a moment, but then he climbs onto the bed and crawls over towards Harry, letting him pull him up so he can settle back against his chest. Harry puts an arm around him, his arm firm across Niall's waist. Niall can feel him breathing, deep and even. 

It doesn't feel normal, but it doesn't feel that weird either, or at least not as weird as Niall thought it would. He's used to Harry touching him, slinging an arm around him or snuggling up next to him when they used to share a bed. The only difference is that this time he knows there's intent behind it, an end goal, even though Harry isn't making any move to touch him except for the arm around his waist.

"You wanna watch Bond again?" Harry asks, fiddling with the remote, and Niall nods. 

They watch the first part of the film in total silence. They've both seen it a million times before, but suddenly it's like they're both watching it for the first time, like it’s demanding every ounce of their concentration.

Niall's just started to relax a little when Harry starts making slow, absent circles over his belly with his thumb. 

"Love this part," Harry says. 

On screen Daniel Craig, poisoned by a villain whose name Niall can never remember, stumbles out of a high stakes poker game. He collapses into the front seat his flashy car, trying to - to do something. To restart his own heart.

Harry's hand strays lower, tracing along the waistband of his shorts. Niall squirms a little, feeling himself flush.

"Harry," he says. He hates the mix of uncertainty and hopefulness in his voice, but he can’t bear it any longer. He has to know if Harry's just having a laugh, or if this is really going to happen.

"Shh," Harry says, not taking his eyes off the screen, and Niall goes quiet again, Harry's nails raking lightly over his lower belly. Then Harry turns his head and presses his mouth to the side of Niall's throat in a not-quite kiss, his hand slipping down the front of his shorts.

Niall’s heart is already pounding so fast he thinks he might pass out, and Harry's still only touching him through his underwear, his lips warm on Niall's skin. 

"I," he starts, but can't finish the sentence, can't think of anything to say that isn't just _please please please_. 

"Let me take care of you, okay?" Harry murmurs. He rubs along Niall's slit through the thin fabric of his panties with two fingers, and Niall gasps, twisting a little in his arms. “You ever touch yourself like this? Make yourself come?”

Niall shivers. “Yeah,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, I. Sometimes.”

Harry cups Niall's clothed crotch in one broad hand. “I bet you do." His voice is lower, rougher than Niall’s ever heard it before. “How about you give yourself a little one right now, just to take the edge off? Get yourself all nice and relaxed.” He presses the heel of his hand just over Niall’s clit, light but firm. “Think you can do that for me?”

Niall can't bring himself to speak. He just nods and closes his eyes, a hot flush climbing up his neck as he begins to rub his clit against the heel of Harry's palm—slow at first and then gradually faster, harder, heat pooling low in his gut. 

He's wet between his legs already and he wonders if that's normal or not. If the girls Harry's been with before get like that too when they've got him talking low and dirty in their ear. 

Or maybe it's weird. Maybe Niall's weird. Maybe right now Harry's thinking about how easy he is for it, his underwear almost soaked through even though he's barely been touched. 

His breath hitches and he grinds up against Harry's hand, trying not to let the anxiety overwhelm him. 

"That's it," Harry murmurs, "that's it, just like that, so good for me," and he slips his other hand up under Niall's shirt, gently massaging one of his small, pert breasts, rolling his nipple to full hardness between his fingers. Niall makes a little bitten-off sound, his clit throbbing between his legs. When he comes, he tips his head back onto Harry's shoulder, shuddering hard against his hand. 

Orgasm feels different in this body. It's more intense but more diffuse too, a contraction and an expansion all at once, waves of warmth and pleasure radiating outwards through his whole body. He rides it out, his eyes screwed shut, and then slumps boneless in Harry's arms. 

"S'good, yeah?" Harry says, sounding a little strained. He grabs the remote and mutes the film, tossing it on the bed beside them. Niall can feel his erection poking insistently into his back, a thick hard line. 

He pushes himself up on shaky arms, turning around in Harry’s lap. He hesitates for a moment, then pulls off his shirt, letting it fall somewhere off the bed. 

Harry’s eyes go straight to his chest. "God, Ni," he murmurs appreciatively. "You - "

"Can I suck you?" Niall blurts out, because he doesn't really want to hear Harry tell him _you've got such nice tits_ or _you're so hot like this_ or whatever he's about to say. He doesn't need to be reminded that this isn't a permanent thing, that most of the time his body isn't the kind of body Harry's interested in fucking.

"Yeah," Harry says, eyes widening in surprise. "Yeah, if you want to, like - "

"I want to," Niall says. He scoots back so he can get onto his stomach. He can feel Harry's eyes on him as he tugs at his briefs, working them down far enough to get his cock free.

It's not like he's never seen Harry's dick before; it's hard to miss, honestly, given how much time Harry spends with his kit off. But he’s never seen it in this context—when he doesn’t have to pretend like he’s not looking at it, like he doesn’t want to get his hands or his mouth on it. 

Harry's big when he's soft, bigger when he's hard, and Niall sort of loses his head at first, tries to take on way too much. When he chokes Harry fists a hand in his hair and pulls him off just a little, letting the thick head rest heavy and hot on Niall's tongue. 

"Hey, you're okay, slow down," he says. Niall whines a little in and tries to surge forward, and Harry tightens his grip, forcing him still. 

"Be good,” he says sternly. When he's satisfied Niall's going to obey, he feeds his cock back into his mouth, slower this time. He doesn't aim for the back of his throat, just pulls Niall's head to the side a bit instead so he can fuck into the soft flesh of his cheek, a shallow easy slide. 

It feels nice like that, facedown in Harry’s lap, his jaw stretched wide around Harry’s cock. It feels like he’s not in control, like Harry’s the one calling the shots. Harry tastes bitter and slightly salty, just the slightest hint of soap from his shower after the show, and Niall breathes in the warm, musky smell of him, dizzy with sensation. It’s not comfortable at this angle, not exactly, but that’s good too, better even - Harry’s hand in his hair tethering him to reality, the slight twinge in his neck keeping him present. 

"So gorgeous like this," Harry groans. He brings his other hand down to Niall's face, tracing over the bulge in his cheek as he pushes in, pulls out, pushes in again. "Take it so well, love."

Niall can't help but moan a little around his mouthful, at the praise and the pet name both. 

He's trying to keep quiet and still, trying to be good while Harry uses his mouth, but this body is greedy for pleasure, already all wound up again like he hasn't just come a few minutes ago. He wriggles a little, rolls his hips into the bed in an attempt to relieve the ache between his thighs. His breasts feel heavy and full, little jolts of pleasure shooting through him every time his nipples brush against the rough fabric of the duvet. 

In his other body he can get himself off like that sometimes if he's worked up enough, just by fisting his hands in the sheets and humping into the mattress until he comes. The movement helps a little now, but it's not enough, the angle all wrong without a dick between his legs. He's craving friction, or something inside him, or both. 

He doesn't realize how much he's squirming until Harry says in a rough voice, "You wanna come again, baby?"

Niall stills instantly, ashamed. But Harry just strokes his cheek again and then pulls out, his cock wet with saliva, leaking a little now at the tip. A long thin trail of saliva joins the shiny head to Niall's mouth briefly, before it snaps. 

"C'mere," Harry says, hauling him up into his lap and kissing him for the first time, nice and slow. He licks his way into Niall's mouth, sucking gently on his tongue like he wants to taste himself there. 

Niall kisses him back, slick and open, sliding his hand hesitantly down Harry’s side. He’s acutely aware of Harry's dick pressing into his thigh, just a few inches and a thin layer of fabric away from his cunt. 

Harry must be thinking the same thing, because after they kiss for a while, he tugs gently at the shorts Niall's still wearing. "Let's get these off, okay?"

"Okay," Niall says, but he hides his face into Harry's shoulder and lets him do all the work, pulling them down around his hips and getting them tangled briefly around his ankles before they're off. 

Before he can start feeling insecure about his nakedness, Harry tips him onto his back and leans over him, bringing their mouths together again, this time with greater urgency. His hand skates over Niall's stomach and lower, tracing over his slit and then parting his slick folds, gathering up the wetness there before he slides a finger inside. 

"Oh," Niall gasps, his legs parting instinctively, cunt tightening around the intrusion. He feels the cold bite of Harry's rings against his hot skin, slick leaking down his inner thighs. 

"So fucking wet," Harry groans quietly against Niall's neck, almost to himself, giving him another finger. He lets Niall get used to the feeling before he hooks both fingers inside him, rubbing tentatively against his inner walls. 

Niall thrashes under him, trying to bear down. “There. Right there.”

Harry flattens his hand over Niall’s belly to hold him still, his fingers slowly and insistently massaging the same spot inside him, leaving his clit untouched. 

It’s never felt like this when Niall’s fingered himself before, never this kind of slow, building pressure. It makes him want something inside him. 

“I need,” he gasps out, hardly aware of what he’s saying. “Harry, I need - ” 

Harry’s watching his face intently, working him open steadily on his fingers, each thrust forcing more slick out of him. "You gonna come like this?" he asks, and Niall makes a little keening noise that would embarrass him if he weren’t so far gone.

“Want your cock,” he blurts out. “Want you in me.”

Harry sucks in a startled breath. “God, yes,” he says. “Yeah, that’s, that’s good, we can definitely do that.” He presses a kiss to Niall’s belly. “Just gotta get some stuff from my bag, okay? Stay right there, babe, don’t move.” 

He withdraws his fingers, wiping them carelessly on the sheets before he scrambles off the bed. Niall lies there, his thighs splayed wide open, listening to Harry rummage around in the bathroom.

"Look at you.” Harry’s standing in the doorway, a condom package in hand, and then he’s on Niall again, pressing little kisses all over his face and mouth. 

"Can't believe I get to have you like this," he murmurs, spreading himself out over Niall, a warm, heavy weight pressing him into the mattress. "Can't believe I'm gonna be your first."

It sends a thrill all the way down Niall’s spine, the realization that he’s about to have Harry inside him. Whatever happens, however this ends, he’ll have had that, at least. 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he says.

Harry just laughs and kisses him again. “Gonna make it so good for you, baby,” he promises in a fake-seductive voice, waggling his eyebrows at Niall. 

Niall watches him tear open the condom package and roll it quickly onto his length, giving himself a few quick strokes before he shifts forward on the bed. He pushes one of Niall's legs up towards his chest, careful as always with his bad knee. 

It feels obscene lying there like that, spread wide open for Harry to look at. The blunt head of Harry’s cock nudges at his entrance. Niall’s never felt so exposed, needy and ashamed and turned on all at once. But he feels - held, too. Safe. Like he knows Harry’s going to take care of him. 

Tears prick behind his eyes, hot and unexpected. 

"Hey," Harry says. "Still okay?" 

Niall nods. Then Harry’s pushing slowly into him, filling him up, and Niall can’t make a sound, can't even breathe, can't do anything but lie still and take it. 

Harry fucks like he moves, with an awkward, coltish grace like he's always on the verge of tripping over himself in his eagerness to please. Like everything about Harry, it really shouldn't be as sexy as it is. But Harry’s hot against him, hot inside him, and he seems to know how Niall’s body works better than he does, hooking one of Niall’s legs over his shoulder and lifting his hips partway off the bed so he can fuck into him deeper, harder, murmuring filthy but oddly sweet endearments in his ear about how wet Niall’s cunt is for him, how tight and perfect he feels around his cock. 

"Want to ride me?" he asks after a while, and when Niall nods he rolls them over, both of them making little noises of protest when Harry's dick slips out of him for a minute. Niall straddles Harry and reaches back between his legs, taking him in hand before he sinks slowly back down. 

It's a little awkward at first, trying to grind down while Harry thrusts up, but they settle into a rhythm eventually and then it starts to feel _amazing_ , especially when he leans forward so that he's got his clit rubbing against Harry's groin and Harry's dick sliding over that spot inside of him over and over again. Harry's big hands are all over him, sliding up his sides, cupping his tits as Niall bounces on his cock. Niall feels the pressure between his legs building again, deeper somehow, more intense. 

It's so much, all of it, almost too much: Harry touching him and fucking him and calling him _baby_. Something that’s been tamped down for a long time is welling up inside him, and he’s afraid that if it surfaces he won’t ever be able to put it back where it belongs. 

Part of him wants to make it stop, to hold it all in, but the desire to finish is stronger, overriding thought. When Harry says his name, thumbing over his clit, he comes, his orgasm pulsing through him in a long, slow shiver, clenching down hard.

Harry swears as Niall tightens around him. He’s still trembling through the aftershocks of his orgasm when Harry flips him onto his back and drags his legs over his shoulders, nearly folding him in half. He fucks into him hard and fast. 

“Wanna come on your - your tits," he gasps. “’M so close, babe, gonna make me come, can I - ”

Niall nods, still dazed, and Harry pulls out fast. He strips off the condom, kneeling between Niall's legs, jerking himself off with quick strokes. 

“Tell me,” he pants, his hand working furiously over his cock, “tell me to do it, tell me - ”

"Come on my tits," Niall says, and Harry groans and falls forward onto one arm, bracing himself up as his dick jerks hard in his hand, painting thick, hot stripes across Niall's breasts and belly. 

"Holy shit," Harry breathes when he’s finished, staring down at him. He seems lost for words. After a moment he sags forward, collapsing next to Niall on the bed, burying his face in a pillow. “Fuck, Niall. That was brilliant,” he says, his voice muffled.

Niall turns over onto his side, feeling sticky and spent. He can already tell he’s going to be sore tomorrow, but in a nice way, the kind of ache you want to remember. He reaches and traces the curve of Harry's lower back, fingertips pressing lightly over his spine. 

“Mm,” Harry says. He turns his face to the side and smiles at him, slightly rueful. “Don’t usually make such a mess, sorry. Got a little worked up there at the end.”

"I don't mind," Niall says. 

Harry snorts at that. “Best part of sleeping with a mate is you don't have lie about shit like that.” He yawns hugely. "You can tell me off for it later, though, I'm knackered. Want me to run a bath for you or something? Be a proper gentleman?"

"No, I'll get up and shower in a bit." He wants to lie here like this next to Harry for a little while longer, sated and happy, the future a long ways off.

"Suit yourself,” Harry says, shifting onto his side. He slides his hand over Niall's hip, splaying his fingers wide, and leans in to kiss him again. “Was that all right, then?” he asks when they break apart, a slight edge of apprehension in his voice.

_It’ll make things weird, won’t it?_

_Not if we don’t let it._

It hurts a little to laugh, but Niall does. "Now I know you’re just fishing for compliments." He shoves at Harry’s shoulder, but Harry just catches his hand, tangling their fingers awkwardly together. “Want me to tell you how big your dick is too, Styles? What a big strong man you are?" 

"Oh, fuck off," Harry says, laughing when Niall pretends to bite his hand. "Didn't hear you complaining about my big dick a few minutes ago." 

He settles back onto the pillows, his expression sleepy and a little smug, their fingers still entwined. 

They must fall asleep like that, their foreheads almost pressed together, because when Niall wakes up it’s to Harry snoring softly a few inches away from his face. He gently disentangles his hand from Harry's grip and sits up in bed, grimacing as he looks down at the mess caked onto his chest.

His flat chest. Sometime in the night, his body’s changed back. 

***

The sky outside is just starting to lighten when he gets back to his room. He sends a quick text to his personal assistant, Sarah, asking if she can get him on an early flight out, and then another to James to see if he can crash in their spare room for a couple days of the break. It’s still the middle of the night in L.A., but Niall knows he’ll say yes, and he won’t ask too many questions. James is good like that, always has been. 

Sarah texts him back a couple minutes later. _Youre in luck ! got you the last 1st class on the 8:35 direct. Car outside in 30._

In the shower he soaps up his belly and chest quickly and rinses off under the too-hot spray. He’s got his fingers wrapped around his dick before he can talk himself out of it, the sensations of the night flooding over him so fast, so viscerally it makes him lightheaded. Harry's expression as he bent to kiss him, half-hungry and half-reverent. The heady, musky smell of him and the weight of his cock on Niall's tongue. What it felt like to be good for him, to be wanted.

He comes with the water beating hard against his back. It runs in rivulets over his shoulders, washing his hands clean. It’ll be nice to lay low for a bit, he thinks. Watch bad telly and eat crap food and hang out with babies. Get his head straight before the next show. In the haze that follows pleasure, he catalogues his sorenesses: jaw, neck, knees, thighs. A kind of phantom ache, deep down, where his insides have shifted in the night to accommodate a new reality. 

It's not a big deal. It's just a thing that happens sometimes, the kind of thing you keep to yourself. He turns the water off, pressing his forehead against the cool tile. He breathes it in again, all of it, and then he lets it go. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](http://www.ticklefightharry.tumblr.com). link post [here](http://ticklefightharry.tumblr.com/post/134879447909/and-its-worth-it-its-divine-saysthemagpie), should you want to reblog!


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